Robin and I didn’t talk much in the crowded limo on the way to the nearby Orlando regional airport. Nor did she seem to have anything to say as the band, my grandmother, uncle, her little brother Sage, our whole entourage, plus whole legal team, were bundled onto the five private sea-planes that were waiting for us all at the airport.

Because, guess, the-fuck-what?

We’re heading to our honeymoon on these sea planes. A real-fake honeymoon. One that was pretty-much planned and solidified, during the last six minutes of the press conference, because we forgot that we needed to have a honeymoon.

A sixth sea-plane was reserved only for Robin and I.

All for show of course, so we newlyweds could be alone. Alone with the pilot and the co-pilot and one flight attendant who has been buckled in and staring at us the whole time, that is because this plane is no bigger than a closet. So who cares? We can’t talk about anything anyhow on this twenty-minute trip down to this private island place we’re going that’s located below the tip of Florida.

At least that is where I think they said we were all going, because right about now I’ve got a splitting headache and my head is humming and threatening to blow like those nuclear reactors after they’ve been in a hurricane.

My uncle Gregory mentioned a place called Little Palm Island, and said that it’s nice, but that’s all I can remember on the details he spewed out to me, aside from the part where there is no real airport on this island, all while I was carrying Robin from the arena to the limo, then onto the plane because of her damn, stupid debilitating wedding dress.

With the press watching us so closely, and because I know Robin would have been sad otherwise, we felt that Sage should be near his sister tonight. So, yeah—another layer of complications has been piled on to us. Which is why we have so many airplanes.

We’re all going to have a quick honeymoon. Together.

Why the hell not bring as many people as possible with you after you get married last-minute? Bring your grandmother, and her wheelchair, too. It’s a fake honeymoon anyhow, right? Bring everyone!

For the first time in my life, I’ve been grateful, beyond grateful for the money we have. I’ve been even more grateful for the influence our current fame brings. I’ve never had to use my wealth like this before, but apparently, when you’re famous and willing to pay triple, guys with private sea planes will delay their evening tourist trips to rush into place to transport you wherever you need to go.

It also allows for an entire five-star honeymoon bungalow to be secured for a last minute booking with nearby quarters for the bodyguards as well as for everyone else.

My grandmother, who owns the Orb Hotel Chains, knows every string that can be pulled in the entire hospitality business as well as she has way more money than I have. From the way our trip to this private island is going off without a hitch, and the way every plan about the honeymoon is coming together like we’re all part of some well-oiled machine, my grandmother must have really pulled each and every string twice and added on some serious bonus cash.

Honeymoon. I’m heading to my honeymoon.

I slap my hand too hard against my forehead, drawing a look from Robin.

Our honeymoon. We are on our honeymoon. Ha.

I still don’t know what’s going to happen on this honeymoon. I mean, don’t get me wrong, I know what’s not going to happen, that’s for damn sure. Obviously Robin and I aren’t going to make sweet love nestled on a bed of freshly scattered rose-petals or whatever the hell newly married people really do when they get to private island resorts after their weddings.

But…we’re going to have to do something, and shit…what the hell are we going to do? My stomach grows tight…or maybe it’s my throat going dry, and I can’t figure out what this feeling is at all. But then I get it. This, is simple, white-hot fear. Fear that I’m going to say, or do, or be the wrong thing just enough to mess this girl up more somehow.

Looking at her now, sitting so still and quiet with her forehead pressed against the oval glass of the window seat that I can only assume she’s as exhausted as I am. She’s probably working extra-hard to follow all of the directions we spewed out to her. It seems she’s now pretending that she’s admiring the view, but from where I’m sitting, I can see that she’s not looking at anything but the condensation of her breath against the window.

She’s also breathing funny, breathing like…what? Like she might cry?

I watch her more closely through my lashes.

Crap. Is she actually already crying right now and doesn’t want me to notice? Maybe she’s so overwrought by all of this she’s already cracked?

I figure if she wanted to talk, she would, and that she just wants me to give her some much needed space. So, I follow her lead, block the view of the flight attendant’s stare and turn to look out the same window, pulling in a few slow breaths myself.

I silently applaud Robin for her genius, and when the plane begins its descent for the water landing, I push up the armrest so I can lean closer and whisper against her ear, “You’re doing awesome. We’re almost there, beautiful one. Are you afraid of landing on water?”

She shakes her head, no.

“Soon it will be just us and we won’t have to…I mean…” I glance back, changing what I’m going to say to, “We finally will be alone.”

“Good,” she whispers back as the plane drops onto the water, landing much faster than I’d expected. The way the plane bobs as they taxi us into the floating dock area makes me feel like we’re on big, extra tippy boat.

Robin grimaces and stumbles some as we pile out onto a big floating dock and I feel like a jerk for forgetting to help her. I switch my focus off her face and down to the length of her dress, muttering, “The fluffy crap under this thing and the veil has tangled. Hold up.” I rush ahead of her out of the plane, so I can lift her up and then set her down. When I do she’s oddly motionless next to me. “You okay?” I whisper, watching her trying to pull in a few breaths while tracking the sides of her eyes for any telltale signs of tears.

She shakes her head, no but gives me this look that we both share, because we know there’s not much she can do but survive being on this damn dock.

“Not long now,” I encourage, reaching down to give her hand a squeeze, and smile when she squeezes back.

Thankfully each group, from each plane is hustled onto golf carts and when they get to us, Uncle Gregory steps forward like he’s going to shake my hand.

It’s an odd gesture, but since we’re all acting here, I take it, shake it and pat his back with my other hand in a half hug. His eyes are boring into mine like he wants me to play along as he loudly calls out, “Congratulations, Royce,” like he wants everyone to hear. Then, he adds, “Just want you two to know that everyone besides you two will be in a six-bedroom family-bungalow on the other side of the island.”

“How was that plane ride?” Sage rushes up grinning both of us.

“Amazing. You happy?” Robin has pasted on a huge smile, but her voice sounds odd.

“Heck yes.” Sage doesn’t seem to notice as he rushes on talking, “Do not pinch me, Robin. I’m at a private beach resort with my favorite band. My sister has married the lead singer of Guarderobe, and I do not want to wake up until after the I’ve seen the whole island and we go on that chartered snorkeling trip Adam was promising. Got me?”

“Got you.” Robin’s smile appears to relax some. “But be good, polite and don’t let them…spoil you too much?”

My grandmother, who was driven over to collect Sage in one of the resort golf carts, adds, “But of course we will spoil him, Robin. All while feeding him well balanced meals.” She winks at me. “Should you need to communicate with him, text anytime we’ve given him a cell phone and I just texted you both his contact info. My legal team has informed me that as long as we stay within the state of Florida, which does include this island property, we will have a small reprise until the holiday weekend is over Monday afternoon. We all need this extra time to work on your case. Don’t you two newlyweds think one minute about it. We have it all handled.”

“Thanks Gran,” I answer for both me and Robin.

As though she’s already dismissed us, she claps her hands in her bossy way, and then taps the arm of the golf cart driver. “Chop-chop, people. The pool and the gift shop are being kept open late. We will be able to purchase whatever we may have forgotten during this fabulous-fast-elopement. I know we all need swimsuits and toothbrushes at the very least.”

“Oh yes, I do.” Sage, grinning, climbs in between Vere and Hunter who are seated on the back of Mrs. Felix’s golf cart. It zooms away while Vere calls out, “I won’t let Sage out of my sight. Hunter and I are on waterslide-baby-sit duty. He’s going to be better than fine.”

I note Robin’s answering smile. Her body still looks like she’s so tense that she’s in some sort of pain because of the dress, and I could swear she’s still breathing all funny—again probably because of the dress, but it’s first genuine smile I’ve seen off her face in the last few hours.

If it’s not genuine happiness, then at least I know she’s happy that her brother is safe. That knowledge makes me happy, and somehow it’s enough for both of us—for now.

My other bandmate, Adam as well as Evie and the baby, are being piled onto a second golf cart. Baby Apple is the only one that has erased her fake-wedding poker face. Like she can read everyone’s mind because we all aren’t sure how to properly proceed right now, she’s whimpering uncomfortably. I only wave once and smile at Adam my friend shoots me one last apologetic glance as his golf cart zooms away.

When they’re gone, my uncle is the only one who’s left on the dock with us. Because the pilots and the hotel staff are all watching, all while pretending not to, something everyone we don’t know or who works at places like these are paid to do, my uncle pulls me away from Robin’s side and mutters under his breath, “You and Robin are going to begin a period of… appropriate and notable private time. Food will be delivered in to the honeymoon bungalow, and your bodyguards will be on the far perimeters to preserve privacy should any idiot reporter or island tourist try to take opportunistic photographs of you. The rest of us will be out enjoying the island and the beaches. Make sure if you’re out in public it looks right—perfect even. But, because none of this is very easy, I recommend you simply hang inside the bungalow property together and…shit just let people assume what’s going on between you. This is so hard. Do you get my meaning?”

I nearly roll my eyes, but instead I grit out, “You mean make sure we look perfectly in love, and make it look like we just had sex twenty or so times, and that it was the best sex we’d ever had now that we’re married?”

“Christ. Yes.” He glances worriedly back at Robin. “But…can I trust…I mean. I can trust, that you won’t…overstep…or take advantage? You know Robin is the kind of girl who will get attached…too attached…and, well…”

“Dude. Remember? I’m the guy who’s vowed to never have those kinds of attachments again. You don’t have to worry.”

“I’m more worried about you saying shit like that.”

Confused, I also turn flick a glance at back at Robin before asking, “What? Why?”

“You should form attachments.” My uncle frowns, also glancing at Robin. “I was just bringing it up because Robin, she’s special and I think you should go very slowly with her, because… I think she could really…”

“I get it. She could really get hurt by me.”

“No.” He’s shaking his head. “That is not what I’m saying. I’m saying she could be something special in your life and that you should consider trying to woo her.”

“Woo? Where do you get these old fashioned terms?”

“I’m old.”

“You mean…woo Robin like, you ‘wooed’ Mrs. Perino?”

He nods and my eyes grow wide. “You mean, me…try to date her?”

“Yes. Slowly though. This girl Robin, she’s special and she could fall for you.”

“You want me to like seriously try to…date her. Hell no.” I blink at him, confused as he nods some more. “She is special. I’ll agree to that. Why else would I have married her? She’s also one of the most awesome people I think I’ve ever met but as for her falling for me in that way?” I suck in a breath. “I won’t let that happen.”

Uncle Gregory shakes his head again, as though he’d like to argue, but I don’t let him butt in again adding, “Look. Please understand my intentions here.” I sigh out. “We all love this girl. Myself included. But she’s innocent, and we all mean for her to stay that way, including me. Especially me. My number one goal is to not hurt her and to get her back to her normal life. Away from mine. And fine, I will form an attachment to her, hell I already have. And…I hope deep down that she forms one for me up to a point.” I blink at my uncle. “She I are going to be friends by the end of all of this. Once she knows me well, and realizes this life I lead is not for her, she will understand that’s all I can ever be to her. A friend. Good friends, I hope, because I need one of those. Because I’ve never had a friend like her, and because I think she’s already almost there for me on that level.” I shake my head, trying to sort out my thoughts. “Hell, so am I, for that matter, and that’s awesome. I also think it’s okay if good friends eventually do love each other, but that’s as far as this will ever go. I will not mess any of that up and sleep with her, if that’s what you’re worried about. I want to keep this girl in my life and sleeping with her—we all know—will send her running away from me sooner than later, because that’s what always happens. So with Robin…I’m shooting for something that lasts forever. See?”

“Well, that’s messed up logic, but as long as you’re working to protect her and that you won’t cross the line then I feel much better.” He shrugs. “I guess I just needed to hear you say it. Sorry to press the issue.”

“I’m kind of glad you did,” I chuckle a little. “I needed to hear myself say it, too.”

My uncle breathes out a long breath like he’d been holding it. And though his eyes tell me he wants to say so much more, he’s holding back which is fine with me.

“Okay. Well. Good luck, son.” He pats my shoulder once leap-hops onto the cart as I, head spinning, walk back over to stand next to Robin while he shouts out for the people that can hear him, “Congratulations, again, you two love birds! Happy honeymoon!”

“Royce. Is that cart for us?” Robin points, her voice sounds suddenly strained. My heart drops as I wonder if she’d accidentally overheard what I’d said to Gregory and somehow it’s hurt her feelings, because I could swear the way her voice pinched and tight something is up and shit…now I’m worried all over again.

Very aware that the remaining driver, and the few pilots milling around as they wait to return to the mainland are still watching us intently, quickly I answer, “Yes. My lady. Our honeymoon chariot awaits.”

Her eyes have gone wide—wild even, as she reaches up trying to get her arms around me, but for some reason that seems to be a fail and her arms fall back down to her sides.

“Royce. Please. Pick me up. I need to…we have to…hurry to the bungalow,” she whispers, her voice coming out hoarse.

“What’s wrong? Shit.” I scoop her close which seems to agitate her versus helping like I thought it would and hop into the cart. As the driver takes us off the dock she twists in my arms, pulling at the sides of her dress and, I think she’s trying to straighten her back.

“The dress. It’s too tight. Wanted to tell you but, I can’t—I can’t breathe at all anymore.”

“Dude. Can’t you drive this thing faster?” I call out to the driver as he’s passing a sign marked, Honeymoon Bungalow, private.

The driver chuckles, “You honeymooners. Always in the same hurry.” He chuckles again, motioning to a pretty, flat roofed house. “Lucky for you two, we’re here. The front door is wide open. Key cards are on your desk, food is here, the door auto locks so kick it closed, but note I was to inform you that there is to be no champagne in consideration of the age of your young wife. We have your privacy in mind and therefore—”

“Okay. Yes,” I interrupt him already leaping off the cart with Robin, growing limp my arms. “Thank you. Sorry to rush, but you said you understand.”

* * *

I’m running into the bungalow listening to her quiet gasps and staring at her ever-whitening face, only pausing to kick the door shut with my foot and quickly making sure it’s locked before finding my way to the huge bedroom located at the back of the unit.

Robin’s gone so pale she looks nearly grey in color. When her gasps go silent, and her weight goes so limp in my arms, I freak! I want to call 911, I want to shout for help, but I know those would be stupid time-wasters when all she needs is to be able to get air into her lungs.

Working quickly, I search for zippers or something at her waist to release her from the dress, but I can’t find shit, so I turn her onto her side and curse when I see a row of what looks like 100 or so pea-sized buttons going down her back—hell maybe there’s two hundred. “Fuck, no. What the hell?”

I try to undo one button, but it won’t budge under my huge clumsy fingers. “Sorry, Grandmother,” I mutter, as I take both hands and rip-pop-pop-pop the buttons off the gown so fast they pelt my face like pearl bullets. I yank the dress completely off her and fling it to the side saying, “What is this?”

Her eyes seem to be rolling back into her head as I stare at the under-thing-pop out cage looking thing and unable to find any sort of buttons, I rip it off of her using all of my strength.

“Robin. Robin? How’s that?” My voice starts to shake when I realize all this effort hasn’t changed her breathing one bit, and this time she’s gone so limp I think she’s fainted!

I turn her back over realizing the next layer, probably the layer responsible for her lack of oxygen is this very sexy corset.

“Holy…mother of…shit,” Panicking now, I reach for the slippery silk ribbons lacing her up the front and on both sides of the corset. Staying away from the laces going up the middle, I get both sides undone, wincing as I note how her soft skin has been marred into angry red crisscross welts where the corset had bound her, but in seconds and the thing pops free. I leave what’s left of it to cover her chest while trying really hard not to look at the tiny lacy curious panties she’s wearing below the corset.

She gasps, seems to comes to, and pulls in a bunch of coughing breaths. With a huge sigh of relief I let my own lungs take in a few full breaths and push the veil away from her face. “There you go. There you go. Breathe in deeply. There you go. You’re okay. You’re okay…”

Realizing she’s going to be really embarrassed, I yank at the sheet under her, scattering rose-petals and pillows all over the place as I position part of it over her nakedness before pulling the entire corset off and tossing it on the floor near to where the wedding dress landed. When I’m sure there’s nothing else binding her breathing and that she’s going to be okay, I leave her and run to the bathroom to get a cup of water and make a wet washcloth so I have options to wake her up more if she doesn’t come around how I want her to.

Luckily when I get back into the room, she’s sitting up, clutching the sheet to her chest and the pale cheeks have returned to their usual bright, slightly flushed color that I love.

“You okay? Please talk to me.”

She’s got one hand over her chest like she wants to feel the air going in and out, and she smiles. “I think—I think you saved my life. Literally.”

“I think you almost killed me by heart attack.”

Relieved, I let myself breathe in as deeply as she’s breathing in, but I’m still too freaked out to smile like she is. “Damn, girl. Next time you can’t breathe can you please mention it long before you’re about to actually die? You scared the shit out of me.”

“I didn’t know. I thought it was me…being nervous, and then I thought it was being near you that was taking my breath away because I always feel kind of woozy when I’m around you, and every time you smiled at me after the wedding I felt like I was choking. I didn’t get that it was the dress until just after the plane ride.”

“Woozy? Who says that word?” I laugh handing her the glass of water while trying not to let all that she just accidentally said to me go to my head. “Here. Drink water.”

When she takes a few sips the sheet slips some, revealing the creamy curves that I’ve just seen far too much of—that I wish I could see more of, and that I’ve got no right to look at anymore.

Quickly, I turn away, acting like I didn’t see all that I just saw, and acting like she isn’t the most beautiful and awesome girl I’ve ever been alone with, ever.

She quickly recovers the sheet, pulling it all the way to her neck which serves to reveal more of her curving long legs, as well as scatters more of the honeymoon rose petals between us. “There’s a lot of petals, huh?” she whispers. “Pretty but maybe, a bit over-done?”

“Oh…uh, yeah,” I utter, taking in the entire scene. Her rumpled wedding dress, the crazy, now ruined corset and slip things, the pearl buttons all over the floor, and how she’s sitting on a bed that I didn’t hardly register until now, that is layered, one inch think with fresh, ‘welcome-to-your-honeymoon’ pink and white rose petals, and damn-me, but if you add in her flushed face and the part where she’s nearly naked now, it looks like she and I just…

A slam of desire wells up in my soul and everywhere else.

“Okay.” I start backing up. “I’ll step out and we can—you can—regroup.”

She nods, and I feel bad because she’s looking all too serious and suddenly guilty as though she’s going to apologize for something when there’s nothing to apologize for except for the part where I’m about to have one hell of a painful cold shower.

“Wait.” I turn back, hoping to change the look on her face from freaked out and apologetic to…anything else.

I point at the pile of crumpled wedding wear and bits littered all over the floor. “Please don’t touch the dress, corset the buttons, any of that has to stay where it landed.” I wiggle my brows. “It looks like we’ve had one wild time in here already, and we want the staff of this place to make note of that so add any shoes and stockings and whatever you’ve got left to the pile. When you’re done, I’ll make sure my outfit is properly scattered around, too.”

I kick off one of my fancy shiny shoes to land onto her dress, the other I leave by the door so it looks like I was running out of them, but her worried expression only gets worse, not better.

“But what will we…wear? We don’t have any luggage.”

I open the closet by the door hoping for some of those fancy hotel bathrobes, but don’t find any. Instead, I pull out the set of extra sheets someone had stored in there and hold up one flat sheet. “Are you down for eating a very late dinner with your husband in a toga by our private pool while we listen to ocean waves? I’m starving,” I lie, because right now, God strike me down with a lightning bolt, I’m only hungry for her.

Luckily she can’t read my mind, and she relaxes under what I hope is a steady gaze. I see her fingers going over the sheet she’s hiding behind. “Yes. Okay. I love making togas. Could be…hilarious.” Her frown changes into a little smile.

“That’s the spirit.”

“Give me a minute,” she says.

Acting all casual, I turn and head out, I’m holding my sheet in front of my lower half, hoping she can’t see how I’ve lost all physical control. “Take as long as you need—come outside when ready?” I manage, proud as hell that I’ve said that without choking.

When I’m alone in the living room, I stalk to the bungalow’s kitchen and shove my entire head into the Sub Zero freezer to breathe in as much ice-cold air as possible. I start praying there’s a spare bathroom or at least a shower by the pool nearby. One that offers cold-cold water.

If Robin looks as beautiful walking around in a sheet as she looked rumpled-up in a sheet while lying on a bed—and if sheets are the only clothes she and I have to wear for the next twenty-four hours—then ice cold showers and this freezer are about to be my new best friends.